The Deal
By SH
A year of Sherlock being back from the dead and everything was almost normal again, including the fights. It started with disembodied eyeballs on the table. John had yelled, Sherlock had ignored him and John yelled more. Finally Sherlock had spat back with insults. Then somehow in all the raging mess Sherlock was holding John and they were kissing. The kissing lead to the couch and the couch led to…well…
After John nestled next to Sherlock their bodies entangled and sweaty on the floor. Somewhere in the midst of all the excitement on the couch they fell onto the floor but didn't bother to care.
"Sherlock, we need to talk about this." John mumbled his head lying on Sherlock's pale chest.
"There is no need to talk." Sherlock groaned stretching his arms above him.
John propped himself up over Sherlock and looked down into his icy blue eyes. His black curls were tangled and a sly smirk lay on his lips with the presence of recent memories and a naked John hovering over him. John couldn't stop from licking his lips at the gorgeous man but he wanted to talk so he pushed the increasing heat inside of him away.
"We can't just start fighting and then end up having sex. That's not how…things work." John said uneasily. He didn't know how to put it, they weren't a couple but they definitely weren't just flatmates. Ever since Sherlock came back his sex drive became unenviable and after a few drunken nights John settled on ignoring the casual sex and the labels.
Sherlock looked at John curiously, "Why can't it be?"
The doctor looked dumbstruck and shrugged. Why the hell not? He thought before Sherlock flipped him over and started fusing their lips together again. "It's a deal." Sherlock murmured against his lips.
"Sherlock!" The doctor called from the kitchen. The tall man slid next to him in his pajamas and looked at what John pointed at. His mouth was turned into a frown at the sight and Sherlock couldn't stop a smile. Before them lay twelve blood samples spread out on the counter, three of the samples were broken and leaking on the granite top. "What the hell is this?"
"Blood samples from neighborhood cats, one of the cats much have knocked some over." Sherlock nonchalantly explained reaching in the cabinet above John's head and grabbing a biscuit. John stood in the kitchen with his jaw open and shaking his head at the genius.
"There was a cat in this flat? Are you kidding me?"
Sherlock shook his head through a bite of the biscuit. He threw a paper towel to John and walked back to his room.
"Where are you going exactly?" John called after him, the consulting detective stopped and turned on his heel.
"My bedroom to sleep, maybe." Sherlock raised his eyebrow at John and smirked and continued to his room.
"You are not running away from this! I will not have cats rummaging around this flat!" John protested and stood conflicted for a few moments before following the genius. Inside his room Sherlock was wrapped in his white sheet on the bed. "Stand up we need to speak."
Sherlock obeyed and stood, the white sheet falling from him to reveal a bare Sherlock. A completely bare Sherlock. Something twitched inside of John while his eyes wandered over the pale skin and stiffened length.
"We were fighting." Sherlock stated.
"Alright." John whispered with raised eyebrows it wasn't much of a surprise this was their sixth fight this month. The doctor walked over to the naked man and held his head. He started to suck on the consulting detective's neck and lowered his tan hands over his soft back. There was a low moan that escaped the man's lips. Sherlock started to toy with the doctor's red button up, slowly undoing each white button.
John kept moving his hands further down Sherlock's back until he reached the indent and rubbed circles into the snow white skin. He began to kiss up Sherlock's neck and nibbled on an ear lobe. Sherlock slid the shirt off of John and started on his trousers, unbuckling the belt and unbuttoning and unzipping. A slender hand reached inside the trousers and palmed at the hardening bulge. The doctor hummed into his ear.
Sherlock began to back up and John let go. Sherlock fell back onto the bed and slipping off his trousers John joined him. John pressed his lips roughly on Sherlock's own as he sprawled out over him.
"Red pants?" Sherlock breathed into the kiss. John looked down at his red briefs. He kneed Sherlock's length gently and whispered before meeting his lips again, "Shut up, Holmes."
"You love it when I talk, Watson." Sherlock countered gripping John's arse. John yelped before resuming the kiss. Sherlock tugged at the waistband of John's red pants. John's knee continued to rub against Sherlock's hardening cock. John, himself was growing harder.
"So this is a thing now, huh?" John murmured into Sherlock before his tongue could venture into John's mouth. In response Sherlock slipped his hands under John's pants and pushed a single finger inside him. John bit his lip to keep from groaning in pain and pleasure.
Sherlock pulled out his finger and nodded towards the bedside table. John sighed, got off of Sherlock and reached over to grab a condom and lube. While his back was turned Sherlock pulled down his red pants and kissed one of the firm cheeks. The consulting detective grabbed the lube and squirted some onto his fingers before plunging two into John again. John cursed under his breath and threw the condom at Sherlock.
John stayed on all fours while Sherlock pulled himself to his knees still pushing his fingers in and out of his tight arse. His fingers pulled out and the sound of the condom wrapper ripping replaced the sound of John's moans from Sherlock's long fingers.
A moment later Sherlock moaned as he entered John. Pre cum fell onto the covers of the bed from John as he greeted Sherlock's moan with his own. Sherlock's length thrust inside him with needy pumps. John moved his hips with the rhythm, greedy for him. They needed each other.
Heavy breathing, moans, and soft whimpers filled the air. Sherlock gripped John's cock and rubbed it in time with his thrusts. Soon they came together. White was spread over the bed covers and Sherlock's hand. They stayed in the position coming down from the sudden burst of pleasure before finally the consulting detective pulled out and slipped off the condom.
John fell on his stomach and Sherlock laid next to him on his side. The doctor turned his head to look at striking blue eyes that were watching him, observing him.
"One day we're going to have to talk about this." John whispered, not wanting to ruin the warm silence. Sherlock closed his eyes.
"Why must we?"
John traced his lips with a calloused finger. He breathed, "You know why."
Sherlock turned around to fall on his stomach and groaned into the pillow, "Why can't we just leave this alone? I enjoy it and you enjoy it."
John sat up and sighed. He reached over to his pants and pulled them on. "Because I'm sitting in my own come not knowing what the hell is going on. Sherlock, I need to know if this is going anywhere or if I'm just an idiot."
"You are an idiot but I don't know what you mean by going anywhere." Sherlock returned to the pillow.
The doctor put his head in his hands and ran his fingers through his golden hair. "I mean are we going to be together? We've been doing this…deal for a month now. You cannot just do this and expect me not to have feelings towards it."
Sherlock sat up and glared at John's back. He spat, "Feelings are useless."
John stood and turned to the man with a mocking laugh. "Well I am sorry that I am human! And last time I checked humans had feelings. I highly doubt that you have eliminated feelings from your mind palace!"
Sherlock was silent for one of the first times in his life. He didn't want to answer. He didn't want to be vulnerable. He just wanted John.
"Fine!" John yelled as he pulled on his trousers and slipped on a jumper of his that was left in Sherlock's room a week ago. He started to exit the room.
"Where are you going?"
"Out! And don't you dare think about following me!" John slammed the door behind him and ran out of the flat into the cold February air. He should have brought a coat but he wouldn't go back inside and deal with that man again. He was not going to be used. He tried to reassure himself but while his pants clung to him from the messy come and he shook from the cold his hope was dying out.
He ducked into a nearby café to avoid the chill and ordered a black coffee. He looked around the café settling on a chair close to the window with the coffee in hand. No Sherlock. He tried not to be disappointed.
John didn't know that Sherlock back at the flat had started to shoot at the wall and run around in only his pants. John didn't know that Sherlock was looking through sonnets about love. John didn't know that Sherlock was researching the hormone that causes one to love. John didn't know that Sherlock was wishing John would return. John didn't know because he sat in the café until he was asked to leave because it was closing time. John didn't know because he walked around London until he found a pub open at four am. John didn't know because he drank glass after glass of white wine. John didn't know because when he finally returned to the flat when dawn was breaking and Sherlock was seemingly fast asleep.
And John went to bed not knowing Sherlock was never asleep but waiting. And Sherlock waited the entire day as John slept off his hangover.
It was almost midnight when John finally woke up groggy and thanking the world for it being the weekend. He stumbled into the shower and washed off the smell of sex, alcohol, and Sherlock. Well, tried to wash off the smell of Sherlock.
The water ran too hot but John didn't bother to care. Even if when he finally got out his skin was red and blotchy and shivering with the sudden loss of warmth. He shrugged on a robe and dried his hair with a towel. Back in his room he changed into jeans and a jumper before heading to the kitchen.
Sherlock was sprawled on the couch in his prayer pose. John turned on the kettle and avoided the man.
"You slept the whole day." John heard the baritone voice say.
"Yeah, and you're an arsehole." He spat back running his hand over his face.
There was a rustle and Sherlock appeared before him in black slacks and that goddamn tight purple shirt. There were bags under his eyes and his face seemed paler than usual. "John. I'm sorry about yesterday." He pleaded.
"I am too for compromising your stone cold heart."
"John, I didn't know what to say there is not a need for your insults."
John leaned on the counter and shook his head. He cried, "And I did? You could have said anything!" The kettle whistled. Sherlock turned it off and poured two cups of Earl Grey before John could. He tried to hand the doctor a cup but he refused. Sherlock sighed and sat at the kitchen table.
"This is a new experience to me. I don't know how to react and I hate it. I can't keep my emotions in check with you and I don't understand. I don't understand…" Sherlock trailed off. John sat across from him with his arms crossed.
"Why do you have to understand everything, Sherlock? Why can't we just be together?" John asked with pleading eyes. Sherlock looked at him sadly.
"It's what I do! I understand things!" Sherlock shot back throwing his head back in anger.
"No, you observe and you deduce. Why can't you observe and deduce what we are when we are together?" John told him taking one pale hand in his and squeezing it.
"I have never been in a relationship, John. I do not know how to act, or what to say…" Sherlock was cut off by John's chuckle.
"I can help you. But Sherlock I really want you." John scanned Sherlock's face before continuing, "Not just in a sexual way, in a romantic way and a friend way. I just want you."
"It's a deal." Sherlock murmured and John leaned in for a kiss that Sherlock returned gratefully.